The scent of the end of the year...

I often call them scents that accumulate and settle, rich in thought. A sweet, lingering aftertaste that doesn't fade, gentle yet full of nostalgia. Here's a patch of grass glistening with morning dew, a fragrant ray of midday sun, a wisp of evening smoke swirling and rising from the kitchen eaves… We've encountered so many familiar scents like these, yet why do they still linger in our hearts on this journey home today?

Perhaps, as time slowly drifts towards the end of the year, we also tend to slow down to quietly contemplate, to observe, to listen, and to feel the subtle stirrings in the communion of nature. I like the way people define this moment: The scent of the year-end! And as is most naturally the case, that scent both reminds and urges, and pulls us back to countless memories that have faded away.

I cherish the December days of my childhood, where my mother bustled about from dawn till dusk with the endless tasks of the year-end. She tended the vegetable garden for Tet (Lunar New Year), and spent long days selecting the best fruits and vegetables to pickle – a dish almost indispensable on the Tet feast table. Then, taking advantage of sunny days, she washed and dried mats, blankets, and other household items to ward off mold. The scent of the year-end sunshine was rare, but it left a magical feeling, making my heart feel light and peaceful.

I remember the bustling village markets in the last days of the year. The markets of December are unlike the thousands of other markets we encounter because they are "markets announcing Tet," markets "bringing news of spring" with eager anticipation. The scent of the market is both familiar and new, evoking a mix of emotions. Our hearts flutter when we catch a fleeting whiff of incense slowly rising amidst the hustle and bustle of buying and selling, then we pause thoughtfully at a few worried, weary faces. The market is like a miniature painting of life, with countless scents that are difficult to name, blending together and rising intensely.

I left my hometown for the city decades ago, traversing countless unfamiliar urban scents; yet, at the end of the year, I feel a pang of nostalgia, a longing for the scents of home. The gentle scent of wildflowers in the fields changing their attire, the rich aroma of kitchen smoke beckoning the distant child back for a home-cooked meal, the fragrant scent of traditional local delicacies carrying the weight of deep affection… I promise myself a journey back after this profound separation from my homeland.

With a heavy heart, I light an incense stick for the deceased, and I clearly feel a sense of time slowing down, drawing closer, deepening, and spreading a stirring feeling in my soul. At the end of the year, I allow my thoughts to blend with familiar scents, and I find warmth in my heart after the absences, receiving a realm of peace and tranquility…

Essays by Ngan Giang

Source: https://baodongnai.com.vn/dong-nai-cuoi-tuan/202601/mui-cuoi-nam-3612511/